Genre: One-shot; non-idol AU; friends to lovers; young love; summer nights, angst/fluff/smut
Summary: In the words of the great Stevie Nicks, "Time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I'm getting older too."
Drabbles: Stolen Tides
Content Warnings: 18+ (minors dni); allusions to domestic abuse; divorce of parents; cigarette smoking; infidelity (not between main couple); kissing; hickeys; making out; hand jobs; oral sex (female receiving); loss of virginity (female); moments of body insecurity; unprotected sex; cumming inside; cockwarming; characters are ADULTS at the time of their sexual encounter; LOTS of emotions
Author's note: I moved. Like, a block away from the beach, and the views and the vibes have me ALL up in my feels. I wrote this in two nights and then sat on it. I wasn't sure if I was going to post it or just keep it in my heart because parts of it are so personal to me. BUT, here it is. I want to give inspiration credit to @orchidyoonkook , because I will never ever be able to write young love or Yoongi without being influenced by the beauty that is Under the Willow Tree. 💕 If anyone chooses to read this little love story of mine, I hope it brings you something wholesome!
If no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜♀️💜
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You inhaled deeply, taking the salty air into your lungs as you gazed out over the cliff side and across the rippling blue that stretched on and on until it met the soft pink glow of the horizon. Your eyes tracked the tide lapping at the smooth sands. You slipped off your heels to meet the cool pavement, but you could feel it already - the soft golden grains molding to meet your steps. These shores hadn't borne your footprints in over a decade, but here you were, drawn back again by the hypnotic crash of the sea and the lonely call of the gulls. It felt as though you had never left. You leaned over the railing of the rickety staircase that wove its way down the cliff side into the sand and scree. Your gaze trailed down the steps, one by one, until you saw it, jutting out halfway down: the lip of a ledge in the rock face. Your breath caught in your chest. Old, familiar feelings of a time gone by washed over you. The years rolled back like clouds from the sun in the western sky.
You were nineteen.
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You shivered, drawing your knees up and hugging them to you as sat on the thick woolen blanket you had laid over the cool stone of the ledge. Even on a summer night like this, you should have worn something more practical. But you had worn your cotton sundress with the cherries. He had once told you that you looked like the main character in that dress, and it had been your favorite ever since.
You watched the moon dance on the dark water and thought about all it had seen. It had been watching the little alcove from the beginning. It had seen you the summer after your first year of middle school, wrapped in a blanket with book between your hands, as you took refuge from the emotional turmoil that shook your house nearly every night leading up to your parents' divorce. It had seen the boy one night, wandering the beach with a cigarette and busted lip, trying to smoke away the tears in his eyes. It had seen the boy climb the stairs, only to discover his favorite hiding place was already harboring another runaway. It had seen you look at him - skinny limbs in a jacket and ripped jeans not lanky on his small frame, tussled dark hair, round face, little bleeding pouted lips, dark sharp eyes wide with surprise - and consider that he was likely the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. It had seen him offer you a cigarette which you refused. It had seen him ask you for a light, which you didn't have. And then it had seen you become friends. Best friends. It had watched you become all that the other truly had in the small, beautiful, painful world of a child. And now it would watch him amble up the beach one last time to find you there.
Yoongi. He had been so upset when you told him that you were leaving for college, but he had tried his best not to show it. He was always like that, keeping things deep inside. You had to wait and watch and listen and coax them out. You could always find the right time to do it, when he felt safe to let you. Most nights, though, it was you pouring out every little thing in your heart. Yoongi loved it when you did that. He would listen with the softest little smile and warm eyes, creasing in the corners, as he watched your hands move with as much animation as your voice when you spoke. His nearly-silent breathy laugh would come like a breeze off the sea and waft around you, lifting your spirits and cleansing your soul. His rare, full smile spreading in breathtaking beauty over his face, pulling his upper lip away from his gums. There were the good times, and the bad ones. On hard nights you would hold each other in silence, letting the beat of the other's heart and the steady undulation of the tide carry you through to the dawn.
You remembered the first time you had awakened in his arms after such a night. The light had just started to stream over the tops of the cliffs, painting the water in rose gold. You had shivered, feeling the dampness of the cool salty air in your hair. And then you had looked up and seen him there, holding you, still fast asleep. His face was angelic, little pink lips just parted, chest rising and falling with the swell of his breath, and you swore you could endure anything life threw at you if the first thing you saw each day were his dark lashes resting gently on the apples of his cheeks. Yoongi had finally stirred and blinked down at you, just gazing silently - the little warm smile in his eyes rather than on his lips. In that moment, something had changed. In the weeks that followed, you thought you had never felt so many things at once.
You felt giddy. You felt a little sick. You felt like you could fly.
You were in love.
You were in love and you had very nearly worked up the courage to do something about it when you saw it - that horrid little purple bruise right below his ear. You had asked him if his father had done it and he had been confused at first. But when you brushed your fingers so softly over the mark, his eyes had widened and he had recoiled, pulling up the collar of his jacket to obscure it from your view. He had insisted that he was fine and not to worry. But worry you did, all the way up to the day you realized what the little bruise really was. Then your worry morphed into something different. You felt sick again, but this time it felt like a burden. You had chided yourself for being so stupid. He was beautiful and sixteen, of course he was involved with girls - girls that weren't you. Your heart broke. You pieced it back together with the succor of his friendship, and, soon, you started seeing other boys too. But you never let them give you purple bruises. You didn't want them from their lips.
As the seasons went by, you remained tethered to one another. Regardless of friends or suitors who would come and go, you knew each other in a way that no one else could. A way that didn't require words. Laughter bubbled up without effort or restraint. Fights ended in tears and forehead kisses and never lasted more than a few moments. Never past parting. Until one day a few weeks ago when he had told you that a boy you were going with was seeing another girl. Yoongi had never liked your boyfriend, and so you had reacted badly, gotten defensive and let yourself be angry with him for telling you. You had snapped at him to mind his own business. When he had insisted that you were his business you had said no you weren't, not in that way. He had gone quiet. So quiet. And then he had left. And he hadn't come the next night. Or the night after that.
You were so angry and anxious, and you told yourself you wouldn't wait for him another night, so you stayed home for the rest of the week. Then, on the third night away, you had tucked yourself into bed only to imagine Yoongi waiting for you, alone in the darkness. You had whipped off your covers and gone to find him in your pajamas. When he had seen you he had jumped up, throwing his cigarette aside, and crushed you in his arms. He had hugged you from the other side of the railing, not even waiting for you to climb over, then lifted you to stand before him on the ledge where he had enveloped you in his arms again. You had tried to apologize, but he wouldn't let you. And then you told him what you had been dreading to tell him all summer: you were leaving. He hadn't reacted. He had just held you in silence. But there was something different in him now, something that had his eyes trained immovably on the horizon. Something that wouldn't let him look at you. Something that distracted him from all you had to say as his thumbs brushed softly over your arms. He had looked at you so strangely before you had parted that night.
Now you were meeting one last time before you would watch the little coastal town and all its hurts disappear in your rearview mirror. You needed a second chance and this scholarship might be your only shot. Your reverie broke as you noticed a figure shuffling down the waterline in the bright light of the waxing gibbous. The figure sprung nimbly, with practiced steps, up the stairs, and lightly vaulted the rail, landing with a soft thud, catlike, a few feet from where you sat. He stepped forward, standing over you as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He was wearing tight khakis, white tennis shoes, and a plain white tee under his green military jacket. With a smoke tucked behind his ear and that little smirk on his lips, you thought he might be cooler than Steve McQueen.
"Got a light?" he asked coolly, shoving the pack of Marlboros back in his pocket. You rolled your eyes.
"Of course not, Yoongi. And why on earth do you always ask me that when you've got one anyway?"
Yoongi smiled to himself as he brought a lighter to the little yellow-tipped cylinder between his lips. It was a secret kind of smile, the kind that made you want to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth. But tonight wasn't for fighting, even the bickering kind. He eased himself down beside you with his signature careful grace. You sat in silence, gaze trained out over the water. While you were looking elsewhere, he relaxed, and you tracked his movements in your peripheral vision. You would do this sometimes, especially when he was particularly guarded. He had always been bad at eye contact, but if you gave him a little space he would let down his walls, and you could read him like a book. Just now, he had let his gaze settle on you. Smoke hissed through his lips, his mouth hanging open just a little in that way it did when he was lost to his thoughts. His eyes roved over you in a way that made you mouth go dry. You swallowed. He suddenly shifted his gaze, coughing a bit.
"I like this dress," he offered, like an apology.
"I know," you murmured with a smile.
"Yeah?" he questioned, brow furrowing, as he took another drag. He was quiet for a beat before pressing out another question. "Paul headed out east too?"
"I broke up with him," came your answer, but without a smile this time.
"Yeah?"
"Oh come on, Yoongi," you bit out, "You knew that was going to happen. That's why you told me!"
His jaw ticked ever so slightly.
"You know that's not true. He was cheating on you. I couldn't let you be in the dark about it - get hurt by another one of these assholes who don't deserve your time in the first place."
You sighed, frustration rising unbidden again as Yoongi casually hurtled the unspoken walls you had erected to make things easier.
"What I deserve is my business. I don't go chastising you for letting random bitches suck on your neck and god knows what else so that you don't feel lonely."
The remark had been soft but laced with venom, and you had regretted breaching your own resolve against negativity the moment the words had spilled from your lips.
"Random..." He stared at you intently, surprise and confusion mingling with another indiscernible expression in his eyes as they traced over your features. You were trying to think of a way, any way, to salvage the conversation when he huffed out a laugh.
"You did know what it was!"
"What?"
"That hickey you asked about sophomore year."
Your stomach flipped.
"How do you even remember that?" You blustered in incredulity.
"How do you?"
He was staring at you knowingly with those achingly beautiful dark eyes that always saw you. It was one of the things you loved most about him. But right now it was terrifying. Right now you wanted to escape, only, there was nowhere to go. So for a moment, just a moment, you didn't hide anymore.
"Because," you swallowed, trailing your eyes back up to his, your voice shaking a bit as you whispered, "I remember everything."
A beat. Two. You didn't make a disarming jest, or a hurried qualification. You didn't even blink. In a flash as quick and heavy as a summer storm, years of yearning filled your eyes like intangible tears, holding his face in your gaze before casting it back out over the sea. Yoongi had froze where he sat, eyes trained immovably on you before he suddenly stood, tossing his cigarette and cursing as he took a step toward the edge, weaving his fingers through his hair.
"What?" you asked, almost defensively.
He didn't turn around, but you could hear the emotion in his voice, his head bowed as he wrestled with the words.
"Nah, that's not fair. You're leaving...You're leaving and you're gonna make it even...even harder right now?"
Turns out you weren't the only one who had been building walls with invisible bricks. You jumped to your feet.
"Oh, so this is my fault? You've been telling me my whole life to get out! You convinced me to apply to the Ivy Leagues! You spent the last weeks pushing me away! I don't understand what you want from me, Yoongi!"
He turned toward you, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, eyes on the ground.
"A clean break," he said lowly, "Not from you...for you. I just wanted you to run, no guilt no pain, and not look back."
You felt a lump rise in your throat as you shook your head.
"That's not how it works though. I was always going to look back. Whenever I was frightened or lost or uncertain. Whenever I woke up in the morning or closed my eyes to sleep, or laughed, or...or felt so much joy I didn't know what to do with it. I was always going to look back, Yoongi," You took a deep breath, "I was going to look for you."
Hot tears slipped down your cheeks as you grabbed his arm and pressed your wet face into his shoulder. You could feel his body shake with little sobs.
"Don't," he croaked out, "don't look for me."
"Sorry," you huffed a tearful laugh into the fabric of his sleeve, "I don't think my heart will listen to you. Pretty rough deal when it's yours after all."
You had tried to say it like a joke. It had come out like a promise.
Yoongi stilled. Everything stilled. For a moment, it was as if even the sea and the sky and the moon held their breath. He let his hands fall from where they covered his face. As he lifted his head and turned, you dropped his arm, thinking for one horrible moment that he meant to push you away. But he didn't. He reached for you, and gently, firmly - like every move he ever made, like every word he ever spoke - slipped his hand around the nape of your neck and pressed his mouth against yours.
You gasped softly against his lips.
Sweet, methodical, insistent. He slipped his tongue against your bottom lip and you tilted your head to slot your mouth against his, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed languorously against your own. He tasted like mint and cigarettes and him. You could do this all day. A little dagger pierced your heart at the thought that you only had tonight. You stumbled back, tugging him down beside you onto the blanket. You pushed him to his back and slipped onto his lap, leaning down to reconnect your lips with his. He chuckled into your mouth, his cheeks still wet with tears.
"Slow down," he hummed.
"No," you murmured in simple defiance, kissing along his jaw before dipping to press your mouth to the soft flesh of his neck.
You licked softly, experimentally, along the side of his throat, and his fingers tightened against your waist. He tasted like salty skin and the alcohol of that cheap musky cologne he wore and Yoongi. You leaned back, supporting yourself with hands on either side of his head as you looked down at him.
"Can I?" you asked with a shy smile
"Hm?" he hummed, large, lithe hands massaging your waist.
"Leave a mark?"
His eyes squeezed into little crescent moons, and his mouth pulled up into a full smile he couldn't repress. He chuckled again, reaching up to brush his palm over your cheek, and nodded, tilting his head to the side to expose the creamy skin of his neck. Your heart hammered in your chest as you leaned down and placed an open-mouthed kiss to his throat before sucking until you had pulled a low, deep groan from him. You pushed up again, surprised at the sound, new and lovely, to find him flushed - his blown pupils darkening his eyes, and a little wet patch of smooth skin growing rosy against his throat. You felt a thrill rush through you, making you tremble. You leaned down and marked him again and again, pulling sweet moans from his lips until his neck and collarbones were littered with the proof of your mouth. You lifted your face to kiss him again, but after pressing his lips to yours twice, he pulled back.
"One more," he whispered, taking your hand from his face and guiding it down to the slight firm swell of the top of his left pec.
His eyes played over your face as you felt it softly against your fingertips - his heart. In a valiant fight for your composure, you pressed your eyes shut and buried your face in his chest. He ran a hand over the back of your head soothingly. You raised your face to meet his gaze again, choking out a little sob at the depth of its gentle affection. You slipped your fingers to the collar of his cotton tee and stretched it down and to the side, revealing his bare chest. With reverence you pressed your mouth to his skin, fulfilling his request.
No sooner had you raised your eyes to his again than he was pulling you against his lips and rolling you to your back. His weight sank into you as your mouths moved together and you thought, maybe, under his warmth was the only place you ever wanted to be. Your body responded to him seemingly of its own accord, your legs weaving around the backs of his thighs as a thrumming ache intensified at your core. As he moved to kiss your neck you found your hips rolling up, seeking relief for the sticky ache at their center, and you were met with a firm knot in his groin that pressed just where you were neediest. Your high-pitched whine was a sharp contrast to his low growl into your shoulder. It was intoxicating - his sensation, his sound, and you undulated against him over and over to slake your want on his growing hardness and hear his breath come quick against your ear. He began to rock against you in return, and soon you were whimpering into his neck, beads of sweat cooling on your forehead against the night air as each rut of his hips became overwhelming and not enough.
"Yoongi, please," you begged in a breathy moan, lightly squeezing the back of his neck and turning your damp forehead against his soft cheek.
He pushed up to look at you, brushing away the little hairs clinging to your brow. He looked as needy as you, but a little uncertain.
"What is it?" he asked. You knew he knew. You leaned up and kissed him chastely before letting your head fall back against the blanket.
"I want you," you murmured, suddenly barely able to look at him as the words formed on your lips.
Yoongi dipped to press another kiss to your mouth before sitting up and back on your thighs, and gently tugging you up with him. You noticed the bulge straining against the front of his khakis, and he winced slightly as he wiggled to adjust against your legs. He took your hands in his, that little smile tugging at the corners of his pink lips, tongue darting out lick at them as he considered you thoughtfully. Impatient, you pushed his jacket off his shoulder, which he fully shed and cast aside, and ran your hands over his cotton-clad chest. His muscle jumped when you grazed down over his stomach, which you thought must be as soft and lovely as the rest of him.
"Are you sure you want this to happen right now, with me?" he asked tenderly. You looked up at him, your brow pinched in question. "Your first time?"
You scoffed, your face heating as you looked away, brushing bits of sand from the blanket.
"How do you know if it's my first time?"
His little smile spread into a grin.
"Because I know," he offered, a bit smugly.
You toyed with the hem of his shirt.
"I'm sure," you murmured. And then you looked up at him. "Have you ever..."
"Yeah," he responded, almost like he was sorry, as he glanced down and took your hands in his again. He bit the bottom corner of his lip. "I don't have a condom."
You felt your heart pounding as the concept of him taking you where you sat became increasingly real.
"So pull out," you offered nonchalantly, hoping you sounded far more experienced than he knew you were.
He nodded. You snaked a hand between you to dance your fingers over the strain against the crotch of his pants. His hand flew to encircle your wrist and still your movements. He took a deep breath.
"It might hurt you at first. Maybe the whole time," he said, his thumb brushing in a pendulum motion over your arm. You nodded.
"I know. I don't care."
He smiled again, regarding you for a long moment.
"Okay," he said, nodding and licking his lips before taking your jaw delicately between the rounded pads of his fingers. "But you have to promise me one thing."
"Hm?"
"You still have to leave in the morning."
You heaved a sigh. Oh, Yoongi. You thought you might cry again, so you nodded, pulling him down over you once more.
"Promise me," he murmured against your lips.
"I promise," you breathed.
You kissed slowly, greedily, learning each other's mouths and mapping each other's faces and necks. At some point he dipped below your collarbone to drag his lips along the tops of your breasts. Your hand flew into his hair and he looked up at you, dark eyes seeking permission. You nodded, bottom lip clamped between your teeth as he tugged down the stretchy bodice of your sundress to reveal a simple beige bra that clasped in the front.
"It's not sexy," you remarked apologetically.
He shook his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes, and dipped to kiss the tops of your breasts as his fingers found the clasp.
"Shhh, it's just the wrapping," he whispered as he snapped the garment open, letting your breasts fall into view as they pushed aside the fabric cups that had confined them.
He cursed under his breath as he brought both hands to your tits and kneaded them gently, sliding your pert nipples in the spaces between his fingers. You mewled, arching your back to press your chest up into his grasp. Before you could truly revel in the feeling of his hands plying your supple flesh, they were gone, but your whine of protest was cut short by a sharp keen as his mouth replaced his fingers. He suckled and nipped at one bud and then the other, and each time he released one with a pop, you were certain you had been rendered temporarily unconscious. Soon he was sitting up and smirking down at the panting, writhing mess of you beneath him. You saw him grimace again as he adjusted his stance, and you reached for his zipper, only to find your hand caught in his.
"No yet," he chided lightly, a twinkle in his eye, "I have to make you cum."
You drew your arm back and cast it over the top of your face, suddenly shy at his remark.
"To get you ready for me," he explained again in a murmur as he pushed your dress up to your rib cage.
He traced his hands lightly over your naked waist and you shivered. He moved to his knees, pushing your legs to either side of him. He hooked his fingers into the top of your pink cotton panties, when you suddenly felt yourself sitting up, your dress falling back over your midriff. You were a sight - wild hair and your tits half out, still panting for breath while worry painted your features. Yoongi pulled his hands away and sat back, confusion in his widened eyes.
"I don't shave," you rushed out, "I know some girls do, but I've never tried. And...I don't know, I'm kind of a mess down there right now..."
Yoongi's face softened and he leaned forward to press his forehead to yours.
"I don't care," he whispered. You huffed out another sigh.
"But...but what if you...don't like it?"
"I know I will."
"How?"
He bumped your nose with his, swallowing again as his hand found yours.
"Because I love you."
He only let the words hang in the air for a millisecond before he was crashing his lips into yours again, passionately, as if it was the only way he could convey his conviction.
He loved you. You could have died. But he was pressing one of the kisses you would always remember into your lips like an oath, so you didn't. And then you let him bare your skin and lay you down and tell you that you were beautiful. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes when you felt your heart believe him. How were you to leave in the morning when his soft, warm words felt like the sun?
He ran his hands over your sides and thighs, dipping to trail slow, deliberate kisses down from your navel until his chin brushed the soft, curly hairs of your mound. Your breath caught in your chest as the cool air hit fresh slick dampening your sex. He leaned back again, regarding you with warm eyes, and took your hand in his, placing it over your lower lips.
"Do you touch yourself?"
You stammered. He had asked you as simply as if he were inquiring about your favorite flavor of ice cream. With effort you admitted that you did. He stroked over your hand.
"Show me how. What makes you feel good."
You nodded slowly, feeling yourself tremble a little as you moved to stroke your middle finger in beckoning motions over your swollen clit. The motion that should have been almost automatic and familiar felt new and lewd under his gaze. As you dipped to gather more arousal from your entrance you watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat and his hands tighten where they gripped your thighs.
"You're soaked," he murmured as he stooped to press a kiss to your belly. Then he did something that would be seared into your brain for all eternity: he scooped up your hand and brought it to his lips, sucking your sticky middle finger into his mouth. You gushed at the sensation of his lips and tongue, wide eyes locked on his as he slowly let your finger slip free.
"You want to know how you taste?" He asked, not waiting for an answer before humming, "So fucking good."
"Yeah?" you asked breathlessly, propped up on your forearms to watch as he laid down between your legs.
"Mhm. Sweet. Like honey."
He kissed into your pubic hair, slipping one of his long fingers to trace over your clit the way you had showed him. You gasped as you watched him work you up, something inside your growing taut like a bowstring. And then a kind of pleasure you had never imagined, the kind that made you want to melt and scream, rushed through your trembling body as a single finger pressed slowly past your entrance while his mouth found your clit. You found your hips bucking to meet his thrusts as he pressed in a second finger. You felt a slight sting at the stretch, but the exquisite pressure of this knobby knuckles caressing your walls overwhelmed any pain, and when he pressed the pads of his fingers to massage a spongy patch of muscle, you cried out, gripping his dark locks.
"Yoongi!" you moaned as he repeated the motion, and when he took your clit between his lips to suck you came.
You came hard and in waves, rolling your hips into him until you were clamping your thighs shut at the raw sensitivity of overstimulation. Yoongi sat up to rub his hands over your shaking thighs and heaving belly before leaning back down to kiss you and return your spirit through his lips from the astral plane.
"You did so good," he cooed, "Came so easy for me."
"That's good?" you asked between pants. He chuckled into your neck.
"Mhm."
"It felt good, Yoongi, really good." He dropped a kiss to your shoulder, and then mumbled into your skin.
"You still want to go all the way?"
"Yes," you whispered, pulling his shirt up his back and running your hands over his bare skin.
Yoongi sat up and pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it to lay with his jacket. He was slender and milky, as you had expected, but his shoulders were surprisingly broad, and his upper chest firm. The soft swell of his belly was dusted with a trail of delicate dark hairs leading down from his navel. You reached instinctively for the button of his pants, and this time he let you. Trailing the zipper down, he helped you shed his tight pants and boxers, sighing in relief as he freed his erection. You bit your lip as your hand trailed over the velvety skin of his shaft. Even this part of him was beautiful, you thought - not overly long but thick and proud with a pretty vein and a smooth tip glistening with precum. You had been so consumed with drinking him in that you only now noticed the little needy whimpers falling from his lips as you stroked him. You squeezed a little firmer, pumping him with more confidence.
"Like that?" you asked, unable to look away from the sweet sight of his face as his eyebrows knitted and his head tilted back.
"Yeah, just...no, no, I won't last," he groaned, his hand stilling yours.
When he met your concerned gaze he reached up to stroke your cheek.
"Feels too good," he murmured reassuringly, then he guided you back down on the blanket, balling up his jacket and slipping it under your head.
He lowered himself carefully over you, skin to skin, as he kissed you again and again, his right hand toying with your breast and trailing lower to caress your clit. You could feel the heat rising in you again, and an aching want inside growing deeper and hungrier with every shock of pleasure. When he trailed his fingers through your folds to find you thoroughly wet he leaned to the side, gliding his length between your lips, his smooth tip brushing over your bud. You cursed, fingers digging into his back and he huffed a little laugh, eyes sparkling down at you.
"Dirty girl," he chuckled, before kissing the tip of your nose. "Are you ready?"
You felt a squeeze of trepidation in your chest, but you pushed it away.
"Yes," you assured him, wrapping your arms around his neck.
For a long moment, he just stared down at you, the same look in his eyes as the morning you had first awakened in his arms, but so intent - as if he was trying to commit every feature of your face, in this moment, to memory. Finally breaking his gaze, he glanced down between your bodies, aligning himself with your entrance. His eyes flicked back up to you as he slowly, slowly breached your core. When he had pressed in past his tip you felt the searing stretch he had warned you of. You closed your eyes, drawing in a sharp breath.
"You okay?" came is worried voice, "Want to stop?" You shook your head.
"No, just do it," you panted through the pain, "I want it to be you."
You pulled him down to press your mouth to his. Every kiss between you seemed to say something. This one said that you trusted him in a way you would never trust another.
He was so gentle. Pressing in slowly, giving you time to stretch around the thickness of him, kissing you sweetly through your whimpers, until he was fully sheathed inside you. Tears filled your eyes and trickled down your cheeks. You were so full of him.
"Why are you crying?" he cooed, touching his forehead to yours.
Your hands clutched his back as you raised watery eyes to his.
"Because I'm yours, Yoongi. Yours first and no one else's." He buried his face in your neck.
"Take me, Yoongi," you whispered desperately into his ear, "Take me like I'm yours."
You felt him let out a tiny sob against your skin and then he started to move. He kept a slow pace at first, carefully gliding against your tight walls, unaccustomed to his presence. You could feel him jerk and twitch as he moved, and thought he must be restraining himself. You found the worst of your pain had passed, and all you wanted in the world was to make him cum.
"Don't hold back," you hummed as you rolled your hips to meet his thrusts.
He didn't need you to tell him twice, instantly setting a quicker, sharper pace that had his balls slapping your ass and his pelvic bone pressing to your clit with each forward snap.
"You're so fucking tight," he mumbled, a dazed look beginning to overtake his features, "You feel so good, baby. So good." You wove your hands into his hair, pulling him down to kiss him as you breathed in every curse, whimper, and moan. And then he was looking down at you with dark, wild eyes.
"I'm gonna cum, sweetheart, where do you want me to cum?"
You didn't have to think.
"Inside," you answered breathlessly.
"But I'm not..."
"Please, cum inside me, Yoongi. Please," you whimpered, tempted to wrap your legs around his waist - your desire for him transcending every fear of consequence. But you wanted to give him the choice.
He raised himself up on his elbows, his thrusts coming impossibly harder and more erratic, and then he came. You watched him in exaltation as he threw his head back and cried out, emptying himself inside you. So beautiful, you thought, with his hair clinging to his brow, his chest heaving and flushed, and his face drawn in the throes of his release. You did wrap your legs around him then, and he collapsed, his head falling to your breasts as he gasped for breath. You tangled your fingers into his hair, caressing his head. You were swollen and sore and messy, and yet the thought of him abandoning you was unbearable. And the moon saw it all.
It saw you stay each other's as long as possible. It watched you both try to hide your tears as you pulled on your clothes. It watched you fight desperately, and fail, to put your heart in words. It watched him silence you, and hold you, because you didn't have to say it. He knew. It watched you fall asleep in his arms one last time.
You opened your eyes. The gulls were crying and the pale morning sunlight was spilling over the tops of the cliffs. The sea was soft and plashing and cerulean. It was the most beautiful of the ninety-three mornings of summer. But you didn't notice - all you saw were dark lashes on the apples of soft cheeks. You watched his breath rise and fall as the sun tipped over the horizon in the east, the dew trickling down your face as salty as the sea.
When Yoongi's eyes fluttered open they met your red ones, and he pressed is forehead to yours only for a moment before pulling you up to stand.
"Get outta here," he whispered shakily, hands still clutching your arms and brow still tilted into your own.
"Come with me," you choked tracing your hands over his chest.
"I can't leave her with him."
"I know." Your fingers traced over his heart and the little bruise you knew rested under the cotton fabric.
Yoongi wept.
"Go," he whispered, squeezing your arms. You nodded weakly.
"Go, goddamn it, go!" he cried, as you shook with sobs, then he crushed his mouth against yours.
Time didn't stop, you'd have any - so you stole every second you could.
And then you kept your promise.
********************
You shivered as a zephyr sprang off the water to whip around you, disrupting your thoughts. You tugged at your blazer. It had been a long time since you wore a sundress with cherries.
It was time to let them go, the little girl huddled in a blanket and the boy with the bleeding lip. They had held your hands for so long. They deserved to be free. It was time to let them go, so you did.
With a deep sigh you cast one last wistful glance back over the great blue expanse as the sun sank into the sea.
The moon was just a silver slip in the sky that night, but it saw. It saw before you did, as you turned to go, the breath catching in your chest when a low, soft voice behind you asked,
You and your brother Seokjin live completely separate lives, until one day when your worlds collide.
Pairing: Jimin x f! reader, Yoongi x f! reader
Genre: Drifting, street racing AU, smut
Word count: 9.5k
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Explicit sex, swearing, mentions of drugs, cigarette smoking, illegal street racing
You know from the first time you lay eyes on Park Jimin that he doesn’t belong in your world.
He’s physically blessed, that much is obvious to anyone with eyes, but he’s all wrong.
His suit is beautifully tailored, but the material’s wrong. His shoes are expensive but in that modern, stylish way that screams new money.
You doubt any of the jewelry he has on is inherited.
He catches you staring, assumes it’s because of his good looks rather than that you’re finding him lacking.
He has the audacity to give you a once over of his own, like he has the right to judge you like you judged him.
You stay perfectly still, let him look.
You’re a Kim, and you’re used to people staring at you.
His lips curl in a smile that looks closer to a sneer.
‘You should wipe that sour look off your face, princess, before the wind changes.’
You’re too surprised to snap back at him, and a moment later, he turns away, like he’s the one dismissing you.
You’re still staring at his back when Seokjin, your brother, arrives with Yoongi.
‘Were you waiting long?’ Seokjin asks politely, gesturing for you to go ahead of him into the private room he’s reserved for dinner.
‘Not long,’ you say, still thinking about the very beautiful man who’s just cut you down.
***
Seokjin, is as unmarked as he ever was, at least from what you can see whilst he’s dressed in a three-piece suit.
You’re glad.
Your brother’s always loved cars. When you were growing up, he spent every spare moment in Yoongi’s family’s auto workshop, similar to how you spent every moment in your father’s office, learning the ropes of your family business.
There was a Kim needed to take over the company, and thankfully, your family didn’t have any qualms about which Kim sibling it was.
A life in business would have killed your brother, totally unlike a life spent drag racing on Mount Samo, you think, uncomfortable with the irony.
If your parents were still alive, they’d probably have things to say about Seokjin’s lifestyle.
At least he’s always with Yoongi.
Min Yoongi.
You sneak a glance at him over your plate as you eat.
Around you and Seokjin, his normally serious face relaxes into a smile, perfect teeth flashing often, eyes crinkled at the corners.
Your brother’s closest friend, you spent most of your teenage years swinging between a desperate crush on him and a desperate need not to be perceived by his intense, penetrating gaze.
Now that you’re older, the heat of your crush has settled into a burning ember he occasionally stokes by turning up when you meet Seokjin, all dark eyes and deep voice and the odd flattering comment that has the power to set your heart aflutter.
Apart from all that though, you know enough about Min Yoongi to know he’s got the heart of a hustler, and fierce loyalty to your brother. If your brother ever went down, Yoongi would be right there with him fighting to the bitter end.
‘You look tired, sis,’ Seokjin says, dropping a dumpling onto your plate.
‘I’m just closing on a three year contract with the Moiwa group,’ you say, not denying it. You’ve been working on a lucrative partnership with the tech company for months, and you’re finally on the home stretch.
You’re not sure how much Seokjin knows about the family business, he rarely attends board meetings, like you’ve never seen him race.
Seokjin loosens his tie, wincing slightly as he does so.
‘How’s your collarbone?’ you ask.
Four weeks ago Seokjin had broken his collarbone and three ribs on Mount Samo. He hadn’t told you about it, but as you are each other’s next of kin, you’d found out anyway.
‘Healing,’ Seokjin says, making up for his brevity with a brilliant smile.
You know what they call your brother on the circuit.
Chaebol. Often said with a sneer, despite the fact that he can put together an Evolution IX blindfolded and drive it in a way that credits all the tuneups he can afford to pay for.
‘I hurt my shoulder,’ Yoongi tells you, teeth flashing in the half-smile-half-snarl that makes you feel lightheaded when it’s directed at you.
‘I’m sure you have plenty of people to take care of it for you,’ you say, straightfaced.
Yoongi blinks, and his lip curls again. ‘Don’t you want to?’
You laugh. ‘Are you trying to be cute? It doesn’t suit you, Yoongi.’
‘Stop flirting with my sister, Yoongi,’ Seokjin interjects, distracting you from Yoongi’s pout.
He turns back to you. ‘Are you free this weekend? I was planning to visit Daejeon.’
‘I’m free,’ you agree.
Your parents’ graves are in Daejeon. You and Seokjin go a couple of times a year.
Your phone rings. It’s your PA, Daeun.
‘I should go,’ you say, apologetic. ‘It’s hectic right now at work.’
‘At least finish your food,’ Seokjin urges.
‘I’ll pick up something before I get home,’ you reply.
Seokjin frowns. ‘I’ll drop food off at your place.’
You smile. ‘I’ll see you this weekend, ok? Keep my brother out of trouble, Yoongi.’
‘And you stay out of trouble too,’ you add.
Yoongi throws you another grin. ‘For you,’ he promises.
‘This weekend,’ Seokjin says.
Both men rise as you leave the room.
***
Seokjin wanted to drop by Yoongi’s workshop on your way to Daejeon, and you have to admit, it’s been a while since you’ve seen his crew.
Jung Hoseok, the angel-faced mechanic turned racer who has a smile and personality that can light up a room and drives like he’s halfway to heaven.
Jeon Jungkook, the youngest, a baby brother to all who of recent years seems to be trying his hardest to hide the facts of his pretty face and endearingly cute little shit personality, by getting tatted and pierced and wearing exclusively black.
There’s an unfamiliar person though, and as he turns to greet Seokjin upon your arrival, you realise it’s the beautiful man who sneered at you in the restaurant.
‘Y/N, this is Park Jimin,’ says Seokjin.
Park Jimin gives you a smile that makes you long to slap him.
‘We’ve met. Turns out, I wasn’t far off when I called you a princess.’
His comment makes your hackles rise.
‘I wish I could say it’s a pleasure,’ you say coolly.
‘How did you meet?’ Seokjin asks.
‘It was at the restaurant that night,’ you tell Seokjin, trying to shut down the line of questioning.
You turn to Yoongi, who’s leaning against a workbench, watching the whole exchange with a bemused look on his face.
‘I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like Y/N,’ Hoseok remarks, kindly. ‘It must be your fault, Jimin.’
You laugh. ‘I’m sure I have a lot of enemies, Hobi.’
If Seokjin’s the chaebol racer, and Yoongi’s the drifting king, you’re the ice princess of Cheongdam-dong.
You’re well aware that your family’s laissez-faire attitude to succession isn’t necessarily shared by all. You’ve grown so weary of the misogyny in your society that it barely even registers to you, now. You learned long ago to apologise for daring to carry on your family business lineage.
You completely miss the look that passes between Seokjin and Yoongi.
‘I’ll be back by nine,’ Seokjin says to Yoongi.
That gets your attention. ‘A race?’
‘We’ll look after him,’ Jungkook assures you sweetly.
You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. ‘Who’s going to look after the rest of you?’
***
Seokjin parks the car, cuts the engine.
You unbuckle your belt, and you both walk around to the trunk to get the flowers you brought.
Seokjin asks, casually, as you walk down the path to your parents’ graves, ‘How’s work going?’
‘Still busy,’ you say, shading your eyes against the brightness of the afternoon sun.
‘The deal came through,’ you tell him. ‘I spent most of last night celebrating with my team.’
‘Congratulations,’ says Seokjin. He’s had the foresight to put on sunglasses, you can’t see most of his face.
‘Thanks,’ you reply. ‘How’s the Supra coming along?’
Seokjin and Yoongi are working on tuning up a fourth generation Supra for a client from Hong Kong.
‘It’s coming along,’ Seokjin says. He smiles wryly. ‘Jungkook keeps asking if he can ‘road-test’ it.’
You laugh along with him.
‘Yoongi says he’ll let him if he can rebuild it after,’ Seokjin continues.
You know Jungkook’s talented, but he’s not as skilled as either your brother or Yoongi.
‘You can come watch the race tonight, if you want,’ Seokjin offers.
He’s never invited you before.
‘Sure,’ you say.
‘We’ll head off when we get back,’ Seokjin says.
You’ve reached the graves.
Seokjin kneels down to lay the flowers on the ground.
You wonder if it’ll ever get easier.
***
You’re sitting in a corner of Yoongi’s workshop, watching as Seokjin and his crew get ready.
The atmosphere’s crackling with anticipation, a wild energy that has adrenaline thrumming through your veins.
Seokjin and Yoongi are hunched over the popped engine hood of Yoongi’s Nissan GT-R, talking quietly.
Jungkook and Hoseok are roughhousing by the workbench. Jungkook’s dressed in black leather and motorcycle boots, a chain round his neck, and you wonder, again, when the maknae started to become such a menace.
Jimin’s sitting on the raised walkway over Yoongi’s workshop, arms on the railing, feet dangling off the edge.
He catches you looking at him, and the slow smirk that spreads over his face is, to your chagrin, equal parts infuriating and attractive.
You can’t deny it, he’s not your usual type but he’s so fucking attractive you almost can’t stand to look at him.
His blond hair is styled back, a stray lock falls across his brow as he stares at you, almost in his eyes. His full lips are curved, smile lines crinkling the corners of his eyes.
The way his jacket’s lifted, with his arms braced on the railing, shows off his flat stomach, the plain t-shirt he’s got on doing nothing to hide how cut his torso is.
Beside you, Seokjin clears his throat.
‘You can ride with me,’ he says. He glances up at Jimin as he speaks, and you wonder how long Seokjin was watching before you noticed.
***
You’ve been in Seokjin’s Honda before, but never on a race day.
The interiors are black leather, he’s modified the sound system, of course, but most striking to you is the way the engine vibrates with power, even when he’s driving the speed limit en route to Mount Samo.
Up ahead, Yoongi’s leading the convoy. You’d glimpsed the flash of his grin as he’d cut Seokjin off at an intersection a couple miles back, and the barely leashed ferality of it had made you fantasise, for the umpteenth time, about sleeping with him.
Bringing up the rear are Jungkook, Hobi and Jimin, keeping tight on Seokjin’s tail.
You look around with interest at the cars idling at the summit when Seokjin slides smoothly into a spot next to Yoongi.
Seokjin cuts the engine, and you get out.
You’d expected Seokjin to get a reaction, your brother is striking even when he’s not driving a midnight black Honda, crimson racing stripes cutting the car in half lengthways, but to your surprise, there are an equal number of eyes on you.
Yoongi’s lit a cigarette, the glow of the lit end reflected in his dark eyes as he moves over to make a space for you next to where he’s leaning.
Smoke curls around your face as he asks, polite as ever, ‘Do you mind if I smoke around you?’
‘I don’t,’ you reassure him.
Yoongi nods. ‘I usually just have the one.’
His lips curl. ‘Then another when I win.’
Seokjin says. ‘Jimin will drive you back down when he’s scouting. We’ll see you at the bottom.’
‘Scouting?’
‘For police,’ Seokjin explains.
You look at him sharply.
‘If you want, Jimin can drive you home right now,’ Seokjin offers.
It occurs to you then, just how separate yours and Seokjin’s lives are.
Yours is a world of meetings, boardrooms, euphemisms for what one really means.
And Seokjin’s is this, nighttimes and headlamps so bright they light up the city, and a physical rawness you never see.
Your brother looks chaebol but inside? He’s this.
‘I’ll stay,’ you say. ‘Good luck.’
Seokjin’s gaze lingers on you, but he doesn’t say anything else.
When Jimin arrives Seokjin takes him aside. They have a conversation you can’t hear, they’re several feet away and Hobi’s trying to show you pictures of his new puppy.
There’s a shift in the atmosphere, the deafening roar of engines, blinding lights as three new cars arrive.
One looks like it’s heading straight for your brother’s Honda.
You tense as it approaches at full speed, screeching to a halt barely a foot from the front bumper.
Seokjin raises an eyebrow, and beside him Yoongi straightens up, grinds the remnants of his cigarette to ash under his boot.
‘Who’s that, Hobi?’ you ask, as the driver gets out.
He’s tall, like your brother, good looking in a flashy way, and the way he stares at your brother as he approaches makes your skin crawl.
There’s a tattoo running up the side of his neck, next to a jagged scar.
You slip past Hoseok and go to stand next to Seokjin.
‘Hyunjin,’ Seokjin says, neutral.
Yoongi just stares back, lip curled in a sneer.
‘Seokjin,’ the man replies. ‘Ready to be driven off a mountain?’
You tense, and Hyunjin’s gaze shifts to you.
‘I’ll be waiting for you at the bottom,’ Seokjin replies, but Hyunjin barely reacts.
He’s still staring at you.
‘Who’s this?’ he asks.
‘The person who’ll make you pay if you do anything to my brother,’ you snap.
He raises an eyebrow, gaze shifting between you and Seokjin thoughtfully.
‘You must be the ice princess. I didn’t think you’d be quite this pretty. I guess Seokjin keeps you hidden away for a reason.’
‘Shut up,’ Yoongi growls, as Seokjin shifts so he’s in front of you.
You realise Jungkook and Hoseok are behind you.
Hyunjin just laughs.
‘I’ll see you at the bottom, princess. If I beat your brother can I have a kiss?’
Seokjin says, voice low and even, ‘What about winner gets the loser’s ride?’
Your eyes widen. You know how many hours Seokjin put in on his car in Yoongi’s workshop.
Hyunjin scoffs. ‘I’m going to enjoy driving your car.’
He gives you another long look, and then he’s turning on his heel.
‘Go with Jimin,’ Seokjin says, glancing at you. ‘I’ll see you down there.’
You’re hesitant. ‘Seokjin —- that guy —-‘
‘Don’t worry,’ Seokjin says. ‘I’ll beat him.’
His expression softens.
‘It’s not my first race,’ he reminds you gently.
You realise Jimin’s got his car pulled up next to you, door open, waiting.
‘Good luck,’ you say, still uncertain.
Seokjin nods, waits until you get in the car, closes the door after you.
***
Jimin drives in silence, navigating the hairpin bends that make Mount Samo a drifter’s dream with a competence that makes you wonder why he’s not racing himself.
‘Is my brother going to be all right?’ you ask, plaintive in the quiet of the car.
Jimin doesn’t answer immediately, and you’re wondering if he heard you when you catch him looking at you in the rearview mirror.
‘Your brother will be fine,’ he says finally. ‘We’ll wait for him at the finish.’
You’re thinking about the way Hyunjin sneered at Seokjin.
‘Is it always like that?’ you ask.
Jimin takes his time answering this question too.
‘Seokjin and Hyunjin have a history,’ he tells you. He turns to you briefly.
‘You should ask Seokjin about it.’
‘Have you known Seokjin long?’ you ask.
Jimin glances at you again.
‘Not long. We started working together a few months ago.’
‘Do you race?’
‘Occasionally.’
‘Are you any good?’ you ask.
Jimin changes gears, slows to a stop.
‘Never good enough for you, princess,’ he says, flicking his gaze at you.
You feel chastened. It’s fair enough, you know that you can be a snob. It’s a learned behaviour, from your years trying to prove yourself as leader of the Kim conglomerate, but Jimin wouldn’t know that, and you doubt he’d care.
‘I’m sorry,’ you say.
Jimin parks the car, turns up the music. He glances at the clock on the dash.
‘Your brother’ll be down in twenty minutes. We’ll have an extra car to drive back - which is why Hobi and Jungkook rode together on the way here.’
‘The wager,’ you say, a question.
‘The wager,’ Jimin confirms.
‘It was all planned then?’
Jimin laughs, short. ‘Hyunjin’s predictable.’
He glances in the rearview. ‘I’ve never seen anyone drift like your brother.’
You’re processing this when he says, referring to your apology, ‘It’s fine. I’ve been nothing but a dick to you since we met.’
‘Are you any good at your job?’ Jimin asks.
There’s the faintest hint of taunting in his voice. You can’t blame him in all honesty.
You decide to tell the truth.
‘I’m inexperienced but I have a good team.’
You look out the window.
‘I don’t have a problem carrying responsibility. Out of the both of us, I was the better choice. Corporate life would have killed Seokjin.’
You press a thumb to your temple, massaging the tension headache that’s threatening to come away.
The silence in the car is deafening.
You glance at Jimin.
He’s staring at you, unreadable.
‘I’ll wait outside,’ you say.
You push your door open and step out into the cool darkness of the night.
A light rain starts to fall.
Behind you, Jimin gets out of the car. A moment later he drapes his jacket over your shoulders, the fabric warm from his body heat.
All he says is, ‘They should be here soon.’
***
Your heart accelerates when the gleam of headlights cuts through the dark.
The rain’s stopped but the tarmac of the road still glistens with wet.
You can’t see who it is, blinded as you are.
The car comes to a smooth stop not six feet from where you and Jimin, and a handful of others, are waiting.
The door opens as your vision begins to adjust, and your brother steps out.
He looks around, spots you and Jimin, lifts his hand in a wave like butter wouldn’t melt.
There’s a wave of cheering, drowned out by the roar of Yoongi’s Nissan as he cruises past, stops a little way past your brother’s car.
You don’t even notice when Hyunjin and the rest of the racers arrive, caught up as you are in the overwhelming wave of relief that your brother and Yoongi are all right.
You lose Jimin in the crowd that surges forward, eyes only on your brother as Hyunjin tosses keys on the ground at his feet, disgusted.
Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You check it distractedly as you head for Seokjin.
It’s an unknown number.
You’re swiping to answer when you collide with what feels like a brick wall.
You’d be off your feet if an arm hadn’t curled around you to steady you.
You look up into Hyunjin’s face.
‘Where’s my kiss, princess?’ he asks. His grip around your waist feels like steel.
You lean back.
‘I don’t remember promising you one,’ you tell him, bringing your arms up against his chest, trying to put more distance between you.
He laughs, holds tighter, starts walking you backwards.
‘Get off me,’ you warn.
‘Or what?’ he asks. ‘You gonna call your brother to come save you?’
‘She’s got more than one friend here, actually,’ comes a voice from behind you.
You turn to see Jimin, hands loose by his sides, expression hard.
‘She asked you to get off her,’ Jimin points out.
Hyunjin’s hand tightens painfully around your wrist for a heart stopping moment before he scoffs and drops it.
‘Maybe next time, princess,’ he says.
He leers at you as he steps away.
‘Are you ok?’ Jimin asks, nodding to your wrist.
‘I’m fine,’ you say automatically, despite the throbbing in your wrist. You’re used to showing no weakness.
Seokjin and Yoongi have reached you.
‘What happened?’ Seokjin asks, an edge to his voice.
‘We saw that fucker head straight for you,’ Yoongi says. The feral spark’s back in his eyes, he looks like he’s spoiling for a fight.
You tug the cuffs of Jimin’s jacket down over your wrists.
‘Nothing happened,’ you say.
Seokjin doesn’t believe you, you can tell, but you don’t want to talk about it.
Finally, he says, ‘I’ll drive you—‘
‘I can drive you home,’ Jimin says. ‘It’s on my way.’
***
You sit in the passenger seat of Jimin’s car, waiting as he grabs something from the trunk.
He gets in, tosses a heat pack into your lap.
‘He grabbed you pretty hard,’ he says. ‘You can use that if you feel sore.’
You look at it for a moment.
‘Thanks.’
‘I’m sorry I lost you for a moment there in the crowd,’ Jimin says, shifting the car into gear as he pulls out onto the road.
‘I’m not a kid,’ you say.
The heat pack feels nice.
‘You’re definitely not a kid,’ Jimin agrees.
His gaze flicks over you, so quick you wonder if you imagined it.
‘You don’t even know where I live,’ you say, with a flicker of amusement.
‘I’ll drive you anywhere you want,’ Jimin replies.
For the first time, he smiles at you, lips curving, eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Where do you want to go, princess?’
***
Your back’s against the front door of your apartment, your head thrown back as Jimin presses heated kisses to your neck.
He’s beautiful, dark eyes and gleaming skin, you keep wanting to watch him but he’s kissing you so well it’s hard to keep your eyes open.
He’s got one hand under your top, smoothing circles over your skin, the other curled over your ass, squeezing your flesh.
‘Jimin,’ you breathe, your hand braced on his shoulder, fingers curling into the hair on the nape of his neck.
‘Yeah,’ he murmurs, silvery voice making you tingle. ‘Touch me, if you want.’
You slide a hand over the hardness of his torso, feeling the ridges of his abs, the tautness of him.
Skin over muscle over bone.
He’s hard all the places you’re soft.
You can’t stifle a moan as he rolls his hips against yours.
‘Where’s your room,’ he grunts, pulling a whine from your lips as he lifts his own lips from your skin.
You point, and he knits his fingers with yours, tugging you with him as he heads for your bedroom.
The door closes behind you, and in front of you, Jimin shucks his t-shirt, pulling it over his head.
His beauty stops you in your tracks.
Jimin grins. He tilts his chin at you, all golden skin and bright eyes.
‘Stop staring,’ he says, bold, ‘and take your clothes off.’
You can feel your skin heat as Jimin fixes his gaze on you, watching as you fumble with the buttons on your blouse, undo the fastening on your jeans.
You can’t meet his gaze when you’re in your bra and panties.
Jimin takes two steps forward, dropping his own jeans.
You’re still looking down, so the bottom half of him comes into view first.
The waistband of his boxer briefs, stretched over taut skin, the very obvious bulge just beneath. Thighs so muscled your own thighs tighten against each other.
He lifts your chin gently so you’ll look at him.
‘Why so shy, princess? Look how hard I am.’
He doesn’t wait for a reply, lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s surprisingly gentle.
He walks you backward onto the bed, takes a moment to look at you laid on your sheets. His hand strokes over his rigid cock once, then he’s lowering himself on top of you.
He’s gentle, but you can feel the coiled power in his muscles as he grinds himself into the softness between your legs.
‘You really are a princess,’ he murmurs into the dip between your breasts, so lightly you know he’s just teasing.
He kisses the round of your breast, tongue flicking around your areola tantalisingly until you’re soaked, your hips seeking friction against his hardness.
‘Jimin,’ you plead, maddened with arousal.
‘Don’t worry,’ he soothes. ‘I’ve got you. Panties off.’
You lift your hips to pull your panties down.
There’s a rip of foil, a barely suppressed groan from Jimin as he unrolls the condom onto himself.
He positions himself above you, slides into you like he’s been doing it his whole life, and you moan, eyes squeezing shut at the stretch of him.
‘You like that?’ he asks, silvery voice deep now, breath hot against your skin.
‘Yeah,’ you cry.
He props himself on one arm, rolls his hips against yours.
‘Fuck,’ he groans.
He picks up the pace, eyes on you, flicking between your face and how he’s making your tits bounce with the force of his thrusts.
He’s glistening with a sheen of sweat now, hair flopped over his face, damp.
‘Look at you, princess,’ he murmurs, voice dropped low, breathless. ‘Look how well you take me.’
He flattens a hand over the curve of your lower belly, thumb flicking over your clit, purposeful, firm, making the pleasure build.
Slows, lifts your hips so he can fuck you deeper.
The curve of his cock hits so good you’re crying out with each rock of his hips against yours.
You come with a gasp of his name, and Jimin drops down on you, grinding, hips working.
‘Fuck,’ he groans, deep in his chest. ‘Take it, baby.’
You wind a hand around his neck, and his lips meet yours again, tongue licking into your mouth as he fills the condom.
‘Shit,’ he groans, pulling out, knotting off the condom, tossing it carelessly.
You’re breathless still, heart hammering in your chest, but you sit up, admire how he looks sprawled out on the covers of your bed, flushed and glowing.
‘You were right, you know,’ Jimin says.
He’d been looking up at the ceiling, but now he flicks his gaze at you.
‘You’re too good for me.’
You scoff. ‘Shut up. I never said that.’
Jimin laughs. ‘I didn’t say it was going to stop me from pursuing you.’
You raise an eyebrow. ‘Pursuing me?’
‘I said what I said,’ Jimin says.
He sits up, muscles flexing, hair pushed back. He drops a kiss on your exposed shoulder, teeth flashing as he follows it up with a playful nip.
As you’re getting up, picking up your clothes, you notice a flash of gold half-out of the pocket of his jeans.
You lift it out, curious.
Jimin says nothing as you rub your thumb over the gold badge, turn it over to see his ID.
‘You’re a cop,’ you say. It’s not a question, you have the proof in your hand, but it comes out querulous anyway.
‘I’m a cop,’ Jimin replies.
You’re trying to process. ‘Does my brother know?’
‘Seokjin knows,’ Jimin says.
He gets up, starts getting dressed too.
‘It’s illegal to race on Mount Samo,’ you say.
‘I’m undercover,’ Jimin tells you. He reaches for his badge, and you let him take it out of your loose grip.
‘What are you investigating?’ you ask.
‘Currently, your ass,’ Jimin says.
You crack a reluctant smile. ‘Could have told me you were a cop before we slept together.’
‘I usually wait for a second date before I get the handcuffs out,’ Jimin shoots back.
You laugh, but your mind’s still racing, wondering why Jimin’s hanging around with your brother and Yoongi.
You’re so preoccupied with your thoughts it takes you a moment to realise Jimin’s watching you.
‘I should get to bed,’ you say, feigning a yawn. ‘I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’
Jimin asks, quietly, ‘Is there anything you want to ask me?’
You’re troubled, but you force a smile.
‘I’ll save my questions for when I’m less tired,’ you say.
Jimin’s got his jacket on, you’ve both moved out of the bedroom.
He says, ‘I’d like to see you again.’
Your smile becomes a little less forced.
‘Yeah,’ you agree.
Jimin looks like he wants to say more, but all he does is nod, flash you a smile before he leaves.
The click of the latch falling into place as he pulls the door to sounds oddly final.
***
You’re tired.
You’ve been in and out of meetings all day. On top of that there’s been a problem with the city planning committee over the new property you’ve just acquired.
It was a hard fought battle but you’d managed to pip your competitor, Jungcorp, to the post. You’re not sure why Jungcorp had fought so hard for it, it’s an abandoned tower block in an unglamorous part of the city, but the land’s invaluable to you for development.
As far as you know Jungcorp’s got no vested interests in property development.
You look up, exasperated, as there’s yet another knock on your door.
It’s past 8pm, your feet are sore and all you want to do is go home and take your bra off, if you could only just finish reading and sign off on the city planning committee’s requirements.
Plus you thought you’d sent everyone from your executive team home.
Your frown softens when you realise it’s Jimin.
You’ve been texting back and forth since you hooked up, he’s called you a few times, but you’ve been too busy to meet.
‘How’d you get in here?’ you ask, getting up to greet him.
‘I’m a cop, remember?’ Jimin says. He looks as pretty as ever, dressed all in black, silverware in his ears.
‘I have security,’ you point out.
‘Jaebeom?’ Jimin asks, feigning innocence. ‘We used to work together.
You roll your eyes.
‘I thought you wouldn’t mind me dropping by unannounced like this,’ Jimin says, ‘because I brought food.’
He brings his arms round from behind his back to reveal a bag of food that makes your stomach growl, loudly and ungracefully.
‘When did you last eat?’ Jimin asks.
‘I had a protein shake for lunch,’ you say, eyeing him as he sets out boxes of noodles. ‘They’re apparently a complete meal.’
It’s Jimin’s turn to roll his eyes.
‘Prawns or chicken?’ he asks, holding out chopsticks to you.
You reach out and grasp his hand instead.
‘I’ve missed you a little,’ you say, tugging.
Jimin lets you pull him closer. ‘Yeah? I’ve missed you a lot.’
He’s close now, head tilted to yours, face barely inches away.
‘A lot?’ you ask, staring at his lips.
‘Yeah.’ His voice is husky now, and he dips his head to yours.
You meet him more than halfway, lips already parted.
Jimin’s hand curls around the back of your head as he slants his own to kiss you deeper.
‘I lied,’ he murmurs, crowding you against the edge of your desk.
‘I didn’t just come to bring you food. I came because I knew you’d look fucking sexy in your work clothes.’
He kisses you again, hips pressed against yours, hand slipping down to cup your ass.
You slip your arm around him, sighing a little as he kisses you, lips warm and sweet.
‘Eat, before we get distracted,’ Jimin says, pulling away.
You whine, disgruntled, but he’s insistent.
The noodles are hot, tasty, satiating the hunger you’ve been suppressing all day.
‘Thanks,’ you say, as Jimin gets up to clear away the food.
You’d help, but it’s the longest break from work you’ve had all day, and now that you’ve sat down on the comfortable sofa you’re not sure you can muster the willpower to get up.
Jimin looks at you knowingly.
‘Want a ride home?’
‘I should probably get back to work,’ you say, regretfully.
Jimin says, ‘You look exhausted. Here, I’ll take you home.’
You find yourself picking up your things, letting Jimin help you on with your coat, following him to the lifts.
Jimin curls an arm around you, and you lean into him as you wait for the lift.
He smells good, but more than that, he feels good, solid, his shoulder corded with muscle under your cheek.
‘You can lean on me,’ Jimin says. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, but he holds you tighter when you try to pull away.
In the car, Jimin leans over to help you fasten your belt.
‘I can do it,’ you say, but he just smiles.
‘I said you can lean on me,’ he tells you. He starts the engine, puts on soft music, a lo-fi beat.
‘Sit back, princess. I’ve got you.’
You want to tell him to stop calling you princess but you’re so comfortable and warm the words won’t leave your lips.
You blink awake to find that Jimin’s parked outside your apartment building.
‘Sorry,’ you mumble, trying to orientate yourself. ‘Did I sleep the whole way?’
‘You talk in your sleep,’ Jimin tells you.
Now you’re fully awake.
‘What did I say?’
‘I didn’t know you liked my ass that much,’ Jimin says, thoughtfully.
‘What?’
He laughs. ‘Go to bed, princess. Want me to walk you up?’
‘I’ll be all right,’ you tell him. You hesitate, hand on the door handle.
‘Thanks, Jimin.’
‘Anytime, princess.’
He waits until you’re inside the doors before he drives away.
***
Yoongi rolls himself out from under the body of the Subaru he’s working on just as Seokjin approaches.
He stares at the pictures Seokjin hands him, jaw tightening, anger sparking, hot and bright, within him.
‘Does she know?’
‘Jimin says she doesn’t seem to know,’ Seokjin says, voice low, furious.
Yoongi hands him back the pictures, lip curled in disgust.
‘I think you’d better fucking tell her,’ he says.
‘It’s not just that,’ Seokjin says. ‘I got this, too.’
Yoongi listens to the recording on Seokjin’s phone, swears.
‘Shit, that asshole’s asking to be fucked up.’
‘Call the guys,’ Seokjin says, voice hard. ‘We get her and then we show him what happens to people who fuck with us.’
***
You’re hurrying, running late. You’re meeting a client from Norway in the busiest part of the city at 7pm sharp.
You glance at your watch just as the light goes green at a multiway intersection, watch the numbers indicating how long you have to cross tick down as you walk briskly across the white stripes on the road.
There’s a thunderous roar, a wave of screams, and the throng of people crossing with you disperses rapidly as you look around to see where the noise is coming from.
The crowd’s clearing, but you stay where you are in the middle of the intersection because you recognise the midnight black Honda with the red racing stripes heading straight for you, the sleek silver Nissan keeping pace alongside it.
Your brother drives slightly past you and executes a 90 degree turn so his car’s across your path, lengthways, tyres screeching.
The acrid smell of burning rubber fills your nostrils, but you almost don’t notice it, because three other cars surround you in quick succession, boxing you in.
To your left, Yoongi, dark eyes scanning you as if to assure himself you’re unharmed.
To your right, Hobi, his face more serious than you’ve ever seen him.
Behind you, Jimin, a shadow behind his blinding headlights.
Seokjin leans across the passenger seat, pushes the door open.
‘Get in,’ he says.
***
You have questions, but Seokjin waits until you’re out of the busiest part of town, when the streets get a little wider, the lights less bright, before he starts talking.
You realise he’s taking you to his apartment.
‘What’s going on?’ you ask.
‘Hyunjin threatened you,’ Seokjin says, terse, jaw tense as he navigates the expensive neighbourhood his apartment’s in.
‘He threatened me?’ you ask, sure you’ve heard wrong.
Seokjin glances at you. ‘The land you just purchased.’
You frown. ‘The square footage we fought Jungcorp over?’
‘Jungcorp is Hyunjin’s grandfather’s company,’ Seokjin says.
The puzzle pieces click into place.
You let out a low whistle. ‘Shit. And he calls you chaebol.’
‘The company’s in trouble,’ Seokjin says, ‘and they’re being investigated for running drugs out of Jamsil.’
He slides into a space in the underground car park, cuts the engine.
‘You know Jimin’s part of the narcotics squad.’
‘He didn’t say what he was investigating,’ you reply, sliding out the door, walking with Seokjin to the private lift.
Seokjin punches in the code, activates the lift, and a moment later you’re walking into his apartment.
There are pictures scattered across the coffee table in the lounge, and for once you don’t stop to admire the view of the city.
They’re all pictures of you. Full colour, high resolution.
Pictures of you in your office, walking into your apartment, at a client dinner. Even, to your horror, one of you in your bed, asleep.
‘Who took these?’ you ask. Your voice comes out tremulous, you barely recognise it.
‘Hyunjin had them sent to me,’ Seokjin replies.
You have to sit down.
‘They want you to give up the Jamsil property and land,’ Seokjin tells you.
You’re struggling to take all this in.
‘Or what?’
Seokjin doesn’t want to give you the details of what Hyunjin threatened to do to you.
‘You should stay at mine until this settles down,’ is what he settles for.
You look up at him.
‘I can’t give up the Jamsil land, Seokjin. It’s the biggest victory I’ve had since I took over the company.’
‘No victory is worth your life,’ Seokjin points out.
Logically, you know your brother is right, but you don’t know if he knows how hard you’ve fought since you took control of the reins of the Kim conglomerate.
The times you were challenged over decisions the board would have praised you for, if you were a man.
The tears you cried in secret when your spirit was battered and bruised from pretending you were immune to the snide comments, the demeaning remarks.
You know you’re stronger than the adversity you faced but it’s never been easy.
Seokjin studies your face, a look in his eyes that makes you wonder how much your older brother really knows.
‘Yoongi’ll take you home to get your things. I’ll fix us dinner for when you get back.’
***
Yoongi never really seems to expect anything from you when you’re together.
It’s a trait that you’ve come to appreciate more and more as the years go by.
He listened to your naive prattling about your friends on the odd occasion when he picked you up after school, never commenting except to ask if you wanted ice cream.
He picked you up sometimes when you were back from college, letting you choose the music you wanted to play, handing you snacks silently, sometimes smoking out the open window.
He drives quietly now, changing gears so seamlessly you barely notice even though you’re staring at his hands.
You remember once, a couple years ago, when you’d met by chance when you were walking to the metro after a disastrous blind date.
You’d been so stung by the experience the indignation had tumbled out of you, words jumbled, as he’d pulled up alongside you and offered you a lift.
Yoongi had listened all the way to your apartment, murmuring support in the lower range of his vocal register, a reassuring rumble if not any actual words.
As soon as he’d stopped the car you’d unbuckled your belt, intending to turn to him and thank him, and instead, you’d looked at him looking at you, his hair pulled back from his forehead in a tiny ponytail, eyes dark and unreadable, and you’d leaned forward and kissed him instead.
Yoongi had grunted a little, and you would have pulled away, if he hadn’t cupped the back of your head and sought your lips with a hunger that thrilled you all the way to your bones.
Heat had pooled in your belly, down low, as he licked boldly into your mouth, slid his big hands around your hips to steady you.
You’d pulled away, breathless, more than a little aroused, and he’d quirked a brow at you.
A question.
You think that if you’d showed any uncertainty, Yoongi would have stopped, and so you didn’t.
You’d taken his hardness in your mouth with a confidence fueled by the reverent, affectionate way he said your name, had learned what he liked by the way his breathing quickened until it was laboured gasps, then a single uttered, emphatic ‘fuck’ as he spilled down your throat, hand clenched on the steering wheel.
He’d given you a feral smile, thumbed away a smear of his cum from the corner of your mouth and put his hand up your skirt like it belonged there.
You’d come crying his name, once with his tongue buried deep in your cunt and another time on his cock as he drilled you into your bed.
He’d left in the morning, a kiss on your forehead and a goodbye so sweet it’s never mattered to you that you’ve never talked about that night since.
You sometimes wonder if he still thinks of it. You’ve never asked.
You look out the window as Yoongi drives.
He reaches into the centre console, tosses a packet of chocolate fish into your lap.
‘I’m not a kid, you don’t have to bribe me with snacks,’ you grouse, but you open it anyway.
The chocolate reminds you that you haven’t eaten all day.
‘Stop being cute and I won’t buy you snacks,’ Yoongi says, reasonably.
‘I’m not cute.’
He just snorts.
‘Want one?’ you offer.
‘You look like you need them more than me,’ Yoongi says, but he accepts the fish you place in his palm.
He walks you up to your building once he’s parked, waits in the living room as you pack a bag.
Once you’re back in his car you turn to him.
‘Did you see those pictures?’
Yoongi’s jaw tightens. ‘Yes.’
‘Seokjin’s worried,’ you say.
‘He’s your big brother,’ Yoongi says, neutral. ‘He worries about you like you worry about him.’
‘I’m fine,’ you tell him.
‘I’m not,’ Yoongi says. He glances in the rearview, signals to turn. ‘I’m angry.’
You put your hand on his arm. ‘You’re always angry,’ you point out, gently.
Yoongi huffs out a breath. ‘No one comes for you, especially not some half assed wannabe racer like Hyunjin.’
You’re touched at his anger on your behalf.
Yoongi looks at you. ‘Seokjin and I will take care of it.’
‘I can’t give up the Jamsil land, Yoongi. I’ve finally clawed myself some credibility.’
‘Fuck that,’ Yoongi agrees. ‘You’re not giving up jack shit for that asshole.’
His lip curls in a half snarl. ‘We’re not giving in even if I have to chain you to me to keep you safe.’
You raise an eyebrow at him.
Yoongi raises an eyebrow back.
He stops in front of the private lift to Seokjin’s apartment.
‘I think you’d like being chained to me,’ you say, unable to resist.
The smile he gives you is a mix of rueful and cocky.
‘Of course I fucking would. I’d make you like it too.’
He unlocks the doors so you can get out, rolls down the window as you get into the lift.
‘I think about that night all the fucking time,’ he tells you, voice low.
You look up at him in surprise, but don’t have time to reply before the lift doors shut between you.
***
Seokjin sets a plate in front of you.
‘Eat,’ he urges.
You pick up your chopsticks and dig in.
‘The responsible thing to do would be to tell you to give up the land,’ he says. ‘That’s what our parents would tell you to do.’
His words set off a pang of sadness that resonates in your chest.
‘If our parents were still here I wouldn’t be running the company,’ you reply.
‘I don’t want you to give up the land. I know how hard you fought for that victory.’
Seokjin takes another bite.
‘I know how hard you’ve been fighting.’
‘Running the company was always what I wanted,’ you tell him. ‘It’s just that it was supposed to be with dad at the helm whilst I found my feet.’
It’s the first time you’ve ever come close to hinting that it hasn’t been easy.
There’s sadness in Seokjin’s eyes.
‘I can put in some time at the company. I’m a Kim, too.’
‘The company is what I want,’ you say, very gently, ‘but it’s not what you want.’
Seokjin sighs. ‘What I want is for you to be happy. I am.’
You snort. ‘You have three broken ribs and a fractured collarbone.’
Seokjin smiles. ‘And you have no injuries. Let’s keep it that way.’
You clink your glasses in a toast.
‘So, Jimin, huh?’ Seokjin asks, sly.
You blink at him but don’t say anything.
Your brother manages to smirk at you anyway.
***
You’re in the gym in your brother’s building, running through your PT routine when there’s a flicker of reflection in the floor to ceiling window you’re facing.
Jimin.
‘Seokjin said you’d be down here,’ he says.
You look up at his reflection in the glass.
‘I’ve got a meeting with my board tomorrow,’ you say. ‘They’re going to want to congratulate me on the Jamsil acquisition.’
You get up from the mat, turn around, and realise he’s as sweaty as you are.
Jimin tilts his head, blond hair falling over one eye. He’s wearing a grey hoodie, unzipped, a white t-shirt underneath that’s moulded to his torso, sweatpants, hands shoved in his pockets.
The gold pendant he wears glimmers in the low light of the gym.
There’s a faint bruise on his jaw.
Unthinking, you step forward and brush a thumb over it lightly.
‘What happened?’ you ask.
Jimin stays perfectly still as you touch him.
‘Just some bangers down by the river,’ he says, vague.
‘Hurt anywhere else?’ you ask.
‘Check me over and see,’ he says, an invitation.
He’s ready for the kiss you press on him, sliding his arms around you, hands warm on the gap between your top and leggings.
You lose yourself in his kisses, only realising he’s walked you backward when your back hits the glass.
The cool press of the window against your shoulder blades is a startling contrast to the warmth of him.
Shit, why’s he so warm?
Jimin’s more insistent than usual, you can feel his erection, already rock solid, nudging at your core even between your layers of clothing.
He grunts, fingers tugging at the zipper down the front of your top, working your breasts free, hands cupping you possessively, pinching your nipples.
You’re aware anyone could walk in but you’re struggling to care, at least whilst Jimin’s hot mouth is pressed against your skin and he’s murmuring filth to you as he touches you.
You’re the one who ends up tugging your leggings down. They’re barely at mid thigh before Jimin’s surged forward, entering you to the hilt in one stroke.
‘Shit, Jimin,’ you gasp. It’s tight like this, your legs pinned together.
‘Turn,’ Jimin commands.
He pulls out, turns you, one hand cupping your cheek so your face doesn’t hit the glass, the other pressed into the small of your back so your hips are angled perfectly for him to enter you again.
He fucks you hard, drilling you into the glass, cock gliding in and out of you at a pace that makes stars form behind your eyelids.
You’re not wet enough but the friction adds to the thrill.
Your nipples tighten harder against the cold of the window.
‘Look at you,’ Jimin groans. ‘Fuck, I’m gonna come so hard.’
His hand kneads the flesh of your ass, squeezing so hard you know he’s going to leave handprints.
He groans again, long, drawn out, into the back of your neck as he spills.
You’re stil recovering when he turns you around again, drops to his knees, pushes his head between your thighs.
He looks up at you, flushed, breathless still from fucking you, eyes dark as he licks up into your cunt.
He hooks his hands over your bared thighs, parts you with his thumbs, and laps at your clit.
‘Jimin,’ you gasp.
‘Yeah, fuck,’ he moans. He’s flicking at your clit with the tip of his tongue, slow circles, fingers sliding into you, curving, pressing.
You can see his come leaking out of you, dripping down his hand as your cunt spasms around his fingers.
He keeps up the pace, fingers moving in and out of you, lips suctioning at your clit, and your fingers tighten in his hair as you come.
He moans like he loves the taste of you, licking at your arousal until your knees weaken.
You get re-dressed in a hurry, Jimin helping you with most of it, shucking off his hoodie and pulling it tight around you.
‘Come on. I’ll put you to bed.’
You’re boneless from your orgasm, weary from the stress of the last few days.
You lean on him as you head back up to Seokjin’s apartment.
Jimin waits, seated on the edge of your bed as you take a shower, pulls back the covers so you can get in.
You grasp his wrist as he gets up.
‘Where are you going?’ you ask, sleepy.
‘I’ve got more to do, princess.’
Jimin presses a kiss to your forehead.
‘It’ll be over tomorrow, ok?’
‘Yeah?’
You’re so tired you can barely keep your eyes open.
‘Yeah. Promise.’
You want to ask more but you’re asleep before he leaves your room.
***
You love the view from your office, in the nighttime but also on days like today, when the sun blazes bright, laying out the city before you.
In the distance, the silhouette of Mount Samo.
It always reminds you of Seokjin.
Seokjin had asked you to back down from the deal on the Jamsil land, just until he could ‘take care of things’, but your board meeting’s been planned for months.
The success of the acquisition was meant to be the cherry on the top of the cake, the final step in proving your worth to the company.
You’d tried, at dinner last night, to articulate to Seokjin how much you needed this, but had found yourself too close to tears for comfort.
You think maybe at the end he’d understood.
You breathe in, slow, trying to get your head in the game before you face your board.
Your PA buzzes with a reminder.
You take one last look at Mount Samo in the distance and turn.
Time to go.
The walk to the meeting room’s never felt so short.
Everyone rises when you enter.
You scan the sea of faces around the U-shaped table and are about to sit when the glass door swings open.
The murmur through the room makes you turn sharply.
Your brother, tall and broad and exquisitely coiffed, walks up to stand beside you at the head of the room.
All eyes are on you, but Seokjin doesn’t seem affected in the slightest.
He leans over, and says, simply, ‘I was wrong.’
You search his gaze, and realise how wrong you were to think Seokjin has no idea what you’re going through.
The realisation makes warmth course through you.
You compose yourself enough to say, ‘That’s why our parents left the company to me, brother.’
The laugh you share makes the tension ease in a way it hasn’t in days.
You turn back to your board.
‘Let’s begin.’
***
The meeting is a success.
Maybe you’re just flying high off the reaction to your report, but you think you’ve made a significant step towards proving your abilities.
Seokjin, beside you, loosens his tie as he starts the car.
‘Where are we going?’ you ask.
‘You’ve done your bit,’ Seokjin says, glancing in the rearview as he pulls out of the space he’s parked in.
His jaw tightens. ‘It’s time to do mine.’
***
You’ve never really been on Mount Samo in the day before, and the hairpin bends that Seokjin’s manoeuvring with ease are making you a little queasy.
Seokjin glances at you in the rearview mirror, amusement on his face.
‘I could drive this blindfolded,’ he tells you.
‘That’s not as reassuring as you think it is,’ you mutter, trying to keep your eyes straight ahead instead of gaping over the sheer drop you’re inches away from.
‘What have you got planned?’ you ask.
‘We’ve actually already carried out the plan,’ Seokjin tells you. ‘I thought you’d like to be there for the final part.’
You’re curious, thinking back to the night before, when Jimin met you in the gym and then left because he had things to take care of. You’d never heard Seokjin come back, you’d assumed that you’d been asleep and that he’d been quiet.
For the first time, you notice the dark circles under Seokjin’s eyes, marring his normally perfect complexion.
It strikes you that although you’ve been bemoaning your brother’s lack of involvement in your work life, you know very little about what he gets up to.
‘What did you do, Seokjin?’ you ask.
‘Nothing Hyunjin didn’t have coming to him,’ Seokjin replies.
He shrugs.
‘I set him up to meet again today so he could have a chance to win back the car I won from him the other day. I gave Jimin all the pictures Hyunjin sent me, the threats he sent against you.’
Seokjin’s lips thin into a hard line.
‘Hyunjin’s car’s been captured on CCTV in a notorious spot in Jamsil that the narcotics squad have been monitoring.’
You’re staring at your brother.
‘There are traces of narcotics in the trunk.’
Seokjin blinks. ‘Jimin knows I won the car, but he left with you that night so he hasn’t seen it driven by anyone other than Hyunjin.’
You see what your brother’s done.
You turn to him, realising only now, how carefully he’s been watching you this whole time.
Seokjin’s voice is carefully neutral. ‘This is the kind of thing your big brother gets up to.’
Seokjin doesn’t know about everything in your life, and you don’t know everything about his.
All you know is, he’s your brother, and you can stand up for him like he stood up for you.
You put your hand on his, where it’s loosely curled over the gear shaft.
‘Guess you’re a good big brother after all.’
Seokjin fixes his gaze on your joined hands, throat bobbing as he swallows.
‘I’m the best,’ he agrees, giving you a crooked smile.
***
When you make it to the summit, Yoongi’s already there, peering through binoculars.
‘Hey princess,’ he says, shifting over on the hood of his car to make room for you.
He hands you the binoculars, casual. ‘Check this out.’
You hold the binoculars up, and Yoongi gently pushes you in the right direction, fingers warm under your chin.
The scene’s a few hundred feet down from the summit, and for once you’re not distracted by the vertiginous drop.
There’s Hyunjin’s distinctive car flanked by a tactical team, all clad in distinctive blue and yellow jackets over bulletproof vests.
Hyunjin, hands above his head.
A flash of blonde hair you’d know anywhere.
Jimin cuffing him and guiding him to an armoured van.
Beside you, there’s the clink of a lighter as Yoongi lights a cigarette.
You lower the binoculars.
‘I guess that’s that.’
Seokjin lowers his own binoculars.
‘Guess so.’
‘Your boyfriend’s a good cop,’ Yoongi remarks.
‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ you reply.
Yoongi’s dark eyes fix on you with interest, but all he does is hum, noncommittal.
It’s barely a quarter of an hour before a car pulls up to the summit, parks beside Seokjin’s.
Jimin steps out, still in his regs, a sight for sore eyes.
He looks tired, but he smiles when he sees you.
‘We’ve got him,’ he tells you.
‘We saw,’ you say.
‘I’ve got to go down to the precinct, then they’re sending me down to Gwangju.’
He hesitates. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. It could be months.’
You reach out and give him a hug.
He smells faintly of sweat and gunmetal, and you think you like it.
‘I guess you should call me when you’re next in town then,’ you tell him, close so only he can hear.
Jimin turns his head, lets his lips brush your cheek.
‘Is that an invitation, princess?’
‘Take it however you want it,’ you reply.
Jimin laughs. ‘I will.’
He gives you a look so heated your skin warms. He nods at Seokjin and Yoongi, gets back in the car.
You all watch him drive off.
Yoongi finishes his cigarette, grinds it into the dirt at his feet.
‘Dinner?’ Seokjin suggests.
‘Yeah,’ you agree.
Yoongi curls his lip at you, that familiar slow smirk that makes your heart skip a beat.
‘Wanna ride, princess?’
Seokjin rolls his eyes. ‘See you guys at the restaurant.’
if anyone is still around for my AOT content, yes I did cry AGAIN at Hange’s scene. 💜 still happy to discuss my thoughts on ALL of it here. Sometimes I miss my monthly posts…
turnnoffyourmind
jacobvanloon
dededos
andulkaphoto
theartofmadeline
